| This sunlight cutting through the open fields. | |
| Can't be communicated by radio waves. | |
| And through this flashlight keyhole memory. | |
| Receive a thousand signals and can't respond. | |
| So keep your hands to yourself. | |
| And relay the message to your friends that nothing's wrong. | |
| Reverse reception on this lifeless satellite. | |
| Push this button. | |
| End the transmission. | |
| So keep your hands to yourself | |
| In this transit station reconnection to our lives. | |
| In transit like my voice cutting through this line. | |
| It's the same old song broadcasted on the radio. | |
| Saying I'm not worth your time. | |
| End the transmission. | |
| This absence is making relations come undoneit's breaking air waves | |
| I'm losing you in the transmission.. |
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